


[S] Dirkbent: Start

by prinsea, taciturntestament



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Corruption, Depression, Epilogue Defiant, F/F, Gen, Gender Exploration, Homestuck typical violence, Illustrated, Implied/Referenced Torture, Like 300 Dirks, M/M, Nonbinary Roxy Lalonde, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Self-Loathing, Soul juggling, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Trans Dirk Strider, Trans Roxy Lalonde, [S] Game Over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinsea/pseuds/prinsea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/taciturntestament/pseuds/taciturntestament
Summary: HIATUS as I try to get my shit together; sorry about that. I’m not giving up though!In a doomed timeline, a Prince splinters himself multiple times over.Two Princes face corruption. One is consumed by it. The other dies.The Rogue has a secret.A new start begins.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal & Dirk Strider, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Dirk Strider & Dirk Strider, Dirk Strider & Roxy Lalonde, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Roxy Lalonde/Calliope
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue: Game Over

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, please note that as of right now, I am not reading Homestuck 2 and will not be using it much in the grand scheme of things.
> 
> Second of all, this is a doozy of an AU that’s been in the works for months. I’d like to thank my friend Prin for all their help in developing this AU with me and everything they have contributed, including art, writing, pesterlogs, and more. They're on here as prinsea and I fucking adore them.
> 
> Third of all, this is a fix it AU, and the focus here is Dirk. There’s a reason he has so many character tags for this, and splinters are going to play a big role here. I couldn’t accept the epilogues and how they panned out, and this AU is intended to explore multiple aspects of Dirk’s character. 
> 
> This AU is about self love, healing, acceptance, friendship, and all that gay shit. Because these kids deserve it, Dirk included.

GAME OVER

You failed. 

You are being ripped apart, your whole existence torn to shreds. You’re numb, but at the same time you’re morbidly aware of the sensation of your body being torn apart, disintegrated into nothing but mere pixels by the glitched out space around you. You deserve worse. 

You failed. 

Jake. Jane. Roxy. _Everyone_. You weren’t there. You could have done something, anything, if only you had been there. Why didn’t you try harder to get to them? Why weren’t you faster? Why didn’t you do something? _Anything_.

You could stop. Pull yourself out of the shitty jpeg artifacts consuming you, try to figure things out with this blue Jake-adjacent guy, but no. You aren't going to do that. There's nothing to fix. Nothing to save. Even if there was, what use would you be? You have already fucked up immensely. There's no way you will be able to contribute anything beneficial to the aftermath of this. Why?

Because you _failed_.

You think for a moment that you might choke to death on your guilt before you die, like somehow you can beat every atom of you getting destroyed to the punch, but then everything stops. You’re not thinking. You aren’t breathing. You aren’t doing anything. Maybe you’re actually dead. 

As quickly as the feeling came, it passes. Your lungs fill with air again. The pain is gone. You’re still alive. When you open your eyes, what you see makes your desire to die a thousand times stronger. 

_I deserve this,_ you think. 


	2. Prologue: Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's important to note that this chapter and the next start out largely the same since they are two different sides of the same coin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for vomit (brief), rapid mental and physical deterioration, and suicidal ideation, I guess? Of the soul?

MEAT

It’s getting worse.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve felt your splinters. Years ago, they were just... there. A presence you were aware of, and although you weren’t particularly thrilled by their existence, you weren’t terribly concerned. But then they became stronger. Started tugging at you more frequently. The closer you got to finishing the game, the louder they were. 

Now it’s like you have a thousand different versions of yourself lumped into your skull, and it fucking _hurts_. Some are stronger than others. Some are worse than others. Some scream in your ears, whispering things and planting thoughts in your head that make you loathe yourself to the core. More than you already do, that is.

Your memory fails.

LET'S PLAY A GAME.

You wake up in a cold sweat. Your heart is pounding. Your body aches. You can’t remember why. You’ve had nightmares before, that’s a given, but never like this. They are vague yet simultaneously blunt, and they strike you at your core with fear. But when you wake up, you can’t recall them in vivid detail. You can remember various splinters being involved, you think, but the rest fades into darkness. You disregard your nightmares and continue with life.

LET'S PLAY A GAME.

Things are normal for a while, but you can’t ignore the growing paranoia in the back of your mind. You don’t know why it’s there, but you catch yourself looking over your shoulder. Some days, you swear you see things out of the corner of your eye, but nothing’s there when you look. You don’t tell anyone.

LET'S PLAY A GAME.

DIRK.

You’re hearing voices. You hear them both when you’re asleep and when you’re awake. Most of what they say is unintelligible, but you can catch a few words. You don’t like them. You still don’t tell anyone. 

Your memory fails. 

You wake up feverish. You’re gritting your teeth because of a splitting headache. Your bones feel like they’re breaking apart inside of you. Your chest feels like it’s on the verge of collapsing. You don’t tell anyone. You start hearing the voices more often. You realize that they sound eerily similar to your own voice. 

You struggle to keep food down. One day, after you have successfully lost your lunch, you catch yourself staring in your bathroom mirror. You don’t remember standing up or flushing your vomit, but you must have done these things at some point. You look like shit. Your skin is pale. The dark circles under your eyes look like bruises. Your eyes are bloodshot. Your hair is a mess. You realize that you don’t remember when you last took a shower. You _never_ skip showers. 

You consider telling someone. You actually sit down in front of your computer and stare at the screen for a long time. You think about telling Roxy, or maybe Jane. Or perhaps you could start a memo. When you reach out to click on Roxy’s handle, your hand stalls midair.

stop.

You can’t move your hand. Terror grips you, and for several long, horrible moments, you can’t move at all. When you finally move your hand, you aren’t doing it of your own volition. You turn the computer off and step away, but you're not the one making these decisions. 

You forget why this scares you, though. Your memory fails. 

Your nightmares get worse. You’ve stopped eating. The voices are louder, clearer, and they are urging you to give yourself to them. To join them. To do exactly as they say, because the fate of your world and your friends’ lives are counting on it. Your heart aches. 

You're doing things without remembering them. You've woken up a few times in your workshop with no memory of entering it, and the things you find in it make bile rise in the back of your throat.

You’re being invaded. Taken over. The realization causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. You are rapidly losing control of yourself, and you have no plan of action to fix this. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to stop this. You just know that you don’t want this and that the feeling in your gut is undoubtedly a bad one. 

You have an idea. A theory. You are fully aware of what you can do with your powers. You’ve wondered about the effect they would have if used on you before.

DIRK.

You’re standing in front of your bathroom mirror again. You look like you’re dying. 

Remove yourself from the equation. Stop this before it gets out of hand. If you take yourself out, the things you’ve seen in your dreams and heard in your head won’t happen, right?

Pink energy crackles around your hands and takes away from the darkness. When was the last time you turned on a light?

LET'S PLAY A GAME.

let's play a game.

The pain you feel as you rip your soul out of your body is ungodly. 

The person in the mirror is not you. 

Your memory fails.


	3. Prologue: Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's important to note that this chapter and the last start out largely the same since they are two different sides of the same coin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings from the last chapter apply here, except this one has actual suicide in it. Of the hanging and decapitation variety, of course.

CANDY

It’s getting worse.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve felt your splinters. Years ago, they were just... there. A presence you were aware of, and although you weren’t particularly thrilled by their existence, you weren’t terribly concerned. But then they became stronger. Started tugging at you more frequently. The closer you got to finishing the game, the louder they were. 

Now it’s like you have a thousand different versions of yourself lumped into your skull, and it fucking _hurts_. Some are stronger than others. Some are worse than others. Some scream in your ears, whispering things and planting thoughts in your head that make you loathe yourself to the core. More than you already do, that is.

Your memory fails.

LET’S PLAY A GAME.

You wake up in a cold sweat. Your heart is pounding. Your body aches. You can’t remember why. You’ve had nightmares before, that’s a given, but never like this. They are vague yet simultaneously blunt, and they strike you at your core with fear. But when you wake up, you can’t recall them in vivid detail. You can remember various splinters being involved, you think, but the rest fades into darkness. You disregard your nightmares and continue with life.

LET’S PLAY A GAME.

Things are normal for a while, but you can’t ignore the growing paranoia in the back of your mind. You don’t know why it’s there, but you catch yourself looking over your shoulder. Some days, you swear you see things out of the corner of your eye, but nothing’s there when you look. You don’t tell anyone.

LET’S PLAY A GAME.

DIRK.

You’re hearing voices. You hear them both when you’re asleep and when you’re awake. Most of what they say is unintelligible, but you can catch a few words. You don’t like them. You still don’t tell anyone. 

Your memory fails. 

You wake up feverish. You’re gritting your teeth because of a splitting headache. Your bones feel like they’re breaking apart inside of you. Your chest feels like it’s on the verge of collapsing. You don’t tell anyone. You start hearing the voices more often. You realize that they sound eerily similar to your own voice. 

You struggle to keep food down. One day, after you have successfully lost your lunch, you catch yourself staring in your bathroom mirror. You don’t remember standing up or flushing your vomit, but you must have done these things at some point. You look like shit. Your skin is pale. The dark circles under your eyes look like bruises. Your eyes are bloodshot. Your hair is a mess. You realize that you don’t remember when you last took a shower. You never skip showers. 

You consider telling someone. You actually sit down in front of your computer and stare at the screen for a long time. You think about telling Roxy, or maybe Jane. Or perhaps you could start a memo. When you reach out to click on Roxy’s handle, your hand stalls midair.

stop.

You can’t move your hand. Terror grips you, and for several long, horrible moments, you can’t move at all. When you finally move your hand, you aren’t doing it of your own volition. You turn the computer off and step away, but you're not the one making these decisions. 

You forget why this scares you, though. Your memory fails. 

Your nightmares get worse. You’ve stopped eating. The voices are louder, clearer, and they are urging you to give yourself to them. To join them. To do exactly as they say, because the fate of your world and your friends’ lives are counting on it. Your heart aches. 

You're doing things without remembering them. You've woken up a few times in your workshop with no memory of entering it, and the things you find in it make bile rise in the back of your throat.

You’re being invaded. Taken over. The realization causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. You are rapidly losing control of yourself, and you have no plan of action to fix this. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to stop this. You just know that you don’t want this and that the feeling in your gut is undoubtedly a bad one. 

You have an idea. A theory. You are fully aware of what you can do with your powers. You’ve wondered about the effect they would have if used on you before.

DIRK.

stop.

Your memory fails. 

Everything becomes a blur. You feel detached. You feel like your soul is being devoured while it’s still attached to you. There's an intense bitterness washing over you, and you can't begin to explain it. Your head pulses. You can feel a sharp pain in your chest.

this timeline will turn out as it should.

you are in my hands now.

i will take care of you.

You make a noose.

it's all for the best.

You don’t feel it when the force of the fall pulls your head off of your torso. 

You sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for getting this far! I’d appreciate and love feedback, and I look forward to sharing this.


	4. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three Dirks meet in space. Hoo boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The panels here were drawn by Prin! You can find more of their work on their tumblr, which is prinsea.

You are the Maid of Void.

You and your session are presumably doomed. You have been roaming the depths of space for so long that you are unable to recall how much time has passed since you started. You do know that the only signs of life you have spotted have been the horrorterrors, and you’ve tried to avoid their pull, but they have a keen interest in you, and it was always inevitable that they would find some way to worm their influence into your brain, but you’re able to tune them out. For the most part.

There are times when your loneliness threatens to consume you. You’ve been looking for so long, and you’re so fucking tired. You want nothing more than to give up, to find some way to get yourself killed in a way that qualifies as just or heroic, but there’s still that lingering need to find your friends. Or just… someone. You may not know the exact amount of time that has passed since you started looking for your friends, but you aren’t an idiot. You searched all of their planets and your own from top to bottom, and all you found were leads and tracks that led to nowhere. You never even found their bodies, and you’re convinced that this god awful not knowing is worse than discovering your friends’ corpses. At least if you found them dead, you would be able to stop. Stop looking, stop caring, stop hoping that you’ll find them, because even as you acknowledge that your chances of ever locating them are slim as hell, there’s still a desperate part of you that thinks that maybe, just maybe, you’ll find them. But that part of you is fucking wrong.

You have never coped well with loneliness. Chalk it up to spending the first sixteen years of your life stuck in an apartment in a post-apocalyptic underwater world, you guess. You can survive isolation. Your continued existence has proven that much, but you know that it has taken its toll on you. How long can someone roam space before they go completely batshit?

You could stop. You could turn around, try to find your way back, but you’ve drifted so deep that it seems like a pointless endeavor. Besides, there’s nothing left for you. You never saw any sign of any of your sprites while searching for your friends, and you haven’t been able to contact them either, so you assume they’re dead too. Still, you could go back to your apartment and load one of Hal’s backups, but fuck, are you so desperate for company that you’ll settle for yourself?

Apparently so, because if you squint, you can make a figure out in the distance that, upon closer inspection, looks exactly like you. Except they’re decked out in red, so they’re a Time player. 

A Seer of Time.

Your mind has to be fucking with you. You have been searching for who knows how fucking long and never come across another person, never mind another you. But they look real, and even if it’s just another you, you can feel that hope you’ve tried so hard to smother down flare up inside of your chest, and god, it’s fucking strong. It builds and builds until you think you’re going to break apart at the seams, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut as pure white light pierces the darkness.

Once the light fades, you have to blink a few times to get your vision back to normal. You’re closer to the red you now, and to your surprise, there’s yet another you. This shit is officially fucking stupid. You’re hallucinating, surely.

This other you is transparent, like they aren’t even real. They’re a Heart player, and a Prince at that, judging by the douchey poofy pants. You had a lot of time to discuss the various titles available in the game with Calliope. She’s gone too, you think.

This new you looks at you, clearly confused as all fuck, and they seem to be changing. Becoming more opaque, more real.

Their outfit starts to change too. It lightens in color, the symbol on their chest warps into the Hope one, and… their pants become ridiculously short, and their tights completely disappear. 

A Page of Hope.

Alright. Weird.

You and Seer you are left to just blankly stare at Prince-turned-Page you’s exposed legs for a few seconds before the gears in your head start working again and you rip your gaze away.

“What the fuck is going on?” you ask. Wow, your voice sounds like shit. It’s like someone ripped your vocal cords out and threw them down the garbage disposal before slapping them back in you. Or like it hasn’t been used for an unreasonably long length of time.

“Shit’s fucked,” the Seer says, like that explains everything.

“Really,” the Page replies. “Thanks for cluing me in. Never would have figured that one out considering my ass was unceremoniously yanked out of Jake’s head and shat out here in one of the objectively worst outfits I have ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes upon. And I’m floating here with two other Dirks, apparently. You’re doing a great job with perception. Ten stars.”

Jake’s… head? You stare at the Page, your eyebrows pinched together.

“I am, for lack of a better term, a brain ghost. Or was, what with our present circumstances.”

“That explains nothing,” you point out.

The Seer chooses not to question anything that the Page said and instead launches into an explanation. You think.

“My session is undeniably doomed. There’s no route that I or any of my friends can take to change that. Which, obviously I know that I’m not from the Alpha timeline—I’m the fucking Time guy, so of course I know that—”

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything,” the Page says, folding their arms over their chest.

“That’s because I’m not done explaining.”

“You could, I don’t know, cut to the chase? We don’t need all the exposition, and it’s somewhat arrogant of you to assume that we do. I don’t care about the details of your life, man.”

You notice that the Seer narrows their eyes behind their shades. Remarkably, they simply continue explaining.

“While I was looking for a way to undoom myself and my friends, it turned out that there are multiple timelines similar to mine that, by all accounts, shouldn’t be doomed. Shit goes relatively smoothly, then it gets fucking nuked, which I thought was odd. I mean, I’m well aware by now that each timeline has the potential to fall flat on its ass at any conceivable moment, but these timelines are... unique. Almost like they weren’t there before, or they were never intended to be there in the first place.”

“Our timelines,” you say.

“Yes,” the Seer replies. “But there are more than just ours. I started examining our respective timelines and comparing them to others, and most of the timelines that exist outside of ours are... different, to say the least. It isn’t common for our god tiers to vary the way they do. We are normally a Prince of Heart, but somewhere along the way, it seems that time and space themselves were splintered, resulting in each of our lives and sessions.”

“Look, that’s all very interesting—really, kudos to you, I’m completely enthralled here—but what are we supposed to do about that?” the Page asks.

“This doesn’t tell us jack shit about why you’re here either,” you say, frowning.

“Or why I suddenly exist,” the Page adds.

“I told you that shit is fucked,” the Seer states. “Paradox space is breaking apart at the seams. It has been for a while, but not from our perspectives. My timeline and this one converged, and I left mine to meet you here.” They fold their arms over their chest. “I can’t go back, and to do so would be fuckin’ redundant. Besides, my timeline might be doomed, but I’m not interested in sitting around and waiting to get swallowed up when space finally collapses in on itself, and you two don’t seem to have anything better to do.”

You frown. They aren’t wrong, you guess. You just don’t take kindly to other versions of yourself coughing up paragraphs at you and acting like they know everything about you. You would like to argue and say that you are actually in the midst of something very productive, but wandering space aimlessly doesn’t yield many results.

“As for why he’s here,” the Seer says, gesturing to the Page, “it’s because of you.” The Seer points at you.

“I think I would be able to recall spitting out a copy of myself in a cheap sexy banana costume.”

“I never said you did it consciously. You’ve been floating through a literal void while completely isolated for longer than you can even wrap your head around, and you have been one hell of a downer at the same time. Your existence itself is dismal.” You’re glaring at them. They continue regardless. “Specifically, you’ve been searching for your friends, but I think you gave up on that a long time ago, and everything past that has been pointless. But the primary issue at hand is your isolation. Did you really think you wouldn’t feel some kind of hope upon finding another living person? Your isolation was so long and so deeply rooted within you that the first time you saw someone else, the hope you felt was powerful enough to pull the Page out of his timeline and into ours, and that hope paired with your abilities solidified him as a real person.”

You open your mouth, but the Seer turns away from the two of you, frowning in the direction they came from.

“I’m interested in utilizing our powers and these timelines as they overlap. If you could pull him from his timeline, you can pull others.”

“What are you talking about?” the Page asks.

“I’m talking about picking the other versions of ourselves from their timelines and slotting them into this one. We could start our own session and continue from there.”

“A session made up of Dirks,” the Page says dryly. “You’re talking about a total fiasco, bro, provided that we would even be able to properly enter the session before tearing each other apart.”

“It’s already set in time,” the Seer says. “Our lives are crashing together on a cosmic scale whether we like it or not. Besides, if we can maintain the peace, what dude would be more qualified to handle a session and completing it than us?”

It’s silent for a moment. The Page shrugs. “Fine,” he says. “I’m already here. Might as well get buckled down for this inevitable shit show.”

The Seer looks at you expectantly.

You hesitate. You’re suspicious about all of this, but when you look around you, you’re reminded of what your life has been since you lost contact with your friends.

You nod.

The corner of the Seer’s mouth curls up.

“This is going to be fucking awesome.”


	5. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've been busy with sickness, the holidays, and life in general. Art for this chapter is by me, and I post my art on instagram at @werew00lves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings include mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts. Nothing graphic though. This one is mostly dialogue.

You don’t know where you are. 

For a while, everything is just black , and you briefly think that this must have been what Hal was scared of, but no. You still exist. You’re still present on some level. You can’t feel anything though, and your thoughts are coming and going at such a slow, frustrating rate. It’s like you’re caught somewhere between sleeping and waking up. No matter how hard you try, you can’t open your eyes, but you are still aware enough that you can acknowledge that. 

That blackness doesn’t seem to be going away soon. You’re cold. You don’t know where you are or how you got here. You can’t feel your body, but it’s like you are gradually getting weaker as time progresses. You don’t know what time it is, you realize. What day is it? How long have you been like this? 

No, this isn’t what it feels like to not exist. It’s what it feels like to lack autonomy, to be inanimate. That’s fucking ironic as hell, and there’s a chance that you would laugh if you could. At least Hal could see , though, as you had cameras installed in your shades. Maybe it wasn’t explicitly for the purpose of ensuring that he could see, per se, but your point still stands. This fucking sucks, and it’s like you can feel your very existence itself beginning to waver. 

You get weaker, though you aren’t certain how you can acknowledge that when you have no awareness of your physicality. Something in you is slowing, breaking, turning to nothing. It doesn’t hurt, but you somehow know that it’s happening, and it only seems to make that god awful awake but not awake experience worse. You keep trying to pry open eyes that you don’t have and move limbs that you can’t feel. Are you dead? Is this what real, natural death is like? You only have memories of dying and waking in the dream bubbles in the game, and that felt more or less like a cheat to continue having a sentient existence, so you have nothing to base this off of. 

Suddenly, you are no longer faced with complete darkness. There’s something in the distance. You can barely see it, but it’s luminous and pulsing, and for some reason that you can’t explain, you feel yourself drawn toward it. It’s bright and pink, glowing with warm energy, and you have this undeniable urge to go to it. But you can’t move. You can’t do anything. 

It’s coming to you, you realize. It stops occasionally, like it’s examining its surroundings or looking for something. Can it see? It’s the only thing you can see. Everything untouched by its glow is still black for you. You dimly think that it isn’t fair if it can see and you can’t, but you aren’t exactly thinking straight here. You’re slowly being pulled under, losing bits and pieces of your awareness, and that does cause a spike of panic in you. But you aren’t scared. Not really. At your core, you are tired—exhausted, even—but you can’t pinpoint why. You just know that if you were suddenly snuffed out of whatever this is without a chance of waking up, you wouldn’t protest. Chalk it up to suicidal ideation and a lack of self-preservation, you suppose, but those are basic parts of who you are. 

The pink light is stopped right in front of you now. You can’t even begin to process what any of this means, but you feel… relieved by its presence. It’s comforting to you, somehow, like you’ve known it for years. 

You witness a hand break through the darkness. As it reaches you and presumably makes contact with you, that pink light glows brighter and envelopes you. It wraps around you like a blanket, and you realize that you can feel it. You can feel the warmth pulsating off of it, and you experience multiple emotions at once. You’re happy, sad, confused, worried, startled, content, and it doesn’t end there. It’s overwhelming but soothing all at the same time. 

You give in to fatigue. Your vision fades out, but that’s okay. This feels safe, being encompassed by this warm light. It feels like home. 

You sleep. 

When you wake up, you can see and feel properly again. You can’t move. It’s like your limbs are being weighed down with lead. One hand comes up to brush your hair out of your face, however, and you realize that you aren’t in control of your own body. That makes you panic. 

dirk!!!

What.

You look around to the best of your ability in this state, but you don't see Roxy anywhere.

JESUS u r fuckin full of anxiety god damn

dirk bby calm down holy s h i t

you just woke up and ur already having a panic attack smh

Roxy, what’s happening? Where am I?

mmm MAYBE take a breather for a minute, k? idk if u want me telling u that just yet

Why?

Your lips twist into a frown. Okay, you know you did that. You were in control of that action. Except your lips promptly stop frowning and form what feels like a nervous smile instead without you thinking it, and your heart is fucking hammering away inside of your chest. 

Roxy, what the hell is going on? Where are you?

k i really think you need to take a minute here distri

im gonna take some breaths for us ok? just go along with me

You take a deep breath in and hold. 1, 2, 3, 4.

Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4. 

In. 1, 2, 3, 4. And so on. 

You continue like that for a few minutes. You try to stop and go back to breathing normally, but then you realize that you aren’t in control of your own lungs either. 

This… isn’t your room. Or home. This is Roxy’s place. You’ve been here thousands of times before, but that does nothing to clear up your confusion. 

You aren’t freaking out as badly as before. You just don’t know what‘s happening. 

ok ok ill tell u

u have to promise to try not to freak out so badly again tho ok?

not bcuz im here personally beating down ur right to have emotions and shit but

youll get it in a minute

...

I promise.

There’s a pause while you try to move your fingers. They wiggle a little. Something’s off though. 

ok so

i was worried

because youve been hiding out in ur place for literal MONTHS now

It was only for a few days. A week at most.

no no dirk no one has seen you in a fucking w h i l e except 4 being on jakes show

do u not remember??

I don’t remember it being that long.

Or being with Jake. I haven’t left the house.

hmmmmmmm

this whole situation is rlly sus

anyway when u stopped answering my texts i figured something was up

and i decided i was gonna march into ur place and pull u out of whatever depressive funk u were in like the sweet rockin BFF i am

maybe force ur ass into therapy but we arent gettin into that rn

when i got to ur place u werent answering the door

and i knew something was definitely up then bc usually u have the decency to at least greet a guest

u werent answering tho and i was worried af so uh

i may have broken your door down

sorry dirk :/

It’s fine.

when i got inside i couldnt find u ANYWHERE which was fucking weird bc where tf else would you be right???

These hands are not your own. 

but there was this weird floating ball thing in ur bathroom!

and it was pink and orange and all glowy n shit but it looked like it was fading fast

and i nabbed it and apparently it was you

This _body_ is not your own. 

well kinda nabbed it? it just started coming toward me and when i touched it

it like

entered me??

i think i accidentally vored you

...

...

............dirk?

u ok?

Somehow, your soul is in Roxy Lalonde’s body. You don’t know how the fuck you should even begin addressing this. 

I’m fine. I’m just... processing.

right yeah ofc

idk how to explain it but u felt really weak when i vored u

and... distraught? stressed tf out?

ive always known you were a deep feely kinda guy but god damn dirk

i started crying on the spot

ur emotions are... really intense

this probs isnt helping huh

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. 

yeah i know u aint gonna talk real deep about ur feelings or anything gotta keep up the cool guy shtick right

You can hear my thoughts?

dirk this entire conversation is thoughts

Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry.

I believe what you absorbed was my soul, somehow.

There isn’t anything else that would make sense.

yeah ur soul orb!! ball. thing

soul ball dirk lol

I remember being it, I think.

The soul.

I didn’t know what the fuck was happening, though. I couldn’t remember how I got there.

yeah i was gonna ask

wtf did you do to urself dirk

I don’t...

Think. 

I was... afraid.

:(

Not when I was the soul. Before all of that.

I isolated myself because I didn’t trust myself around you or anyone else.

My splinters were becoming stronger. I could feel them more than ever.

The... bad ones were especially persistent.

_Think._ Remember. 

It was like they were invading me and taking over.

Sometimes I didn’t know who or where I was.

To say that they were terrible is one hell of a fucking understatement.

It was getting worse though, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix it.

You feel yourself—no—you feel _Roxy_ frown. 

I ripped my soul out.

dirk :(((

You remember making the decision. You remember the pain. It was one of the lowest points you have ever found yourself at. At the time, it seemed like a rational answer to the problem, but now you’re beginning to wonder if you have managed to fuck things up worse than they already were. 

It was the only solution I could think of.

i know

i can kind of like

feel and remember it as you do

Fuck, I’m sorry.

its ok dirk

i dont think u planned on me voring ur lil soul ball self

i just wish youd reached out b4 you got to that point :(

I know. I probably should have, all things considered.

I wanted to avoid getting you involved.

Seems like I royally fucked up in that department. You’re more involved now than you would have been then.

I’m beginning to wonder if I wasn’t coaxed into ripping my soul out.

Self-destructive suicidal tendencies aren’t unusual for me, as you know, and I wouldn't doubt the possibility of it being my own idea, but I was standing in the way of my splinters at the time.

Which brings up a potential problem.

You said you didn’t see me anywhere when you were in my house, right?

right

So where the hell is my body?

It’s silent for several moments. 

fuck

maybe we should... go back and try to find it

No.

Something tells me that isn’t a good idea.

If I ripped my soul out, my body was fair game for whatever versions of myself were trying to get in.

They were...

Roxy, they were fucking awful, okay?

There are some timelines in which I was absolutely horrible. Worse than what I am now.

Dave’s bro, for instance.

k im not lettin u get away w/ rippin on urself in my brain but FUCK

Fuck indeed.

I could try to reach out and feel them, maybe attempt to track myself down that way, but I’m concerned that would introduce them to you.

Fuck, what if that happens anyway?

dirk itll be alright

i can take a LOT mister

besides maybe it wont happen??

You don’t know that for certain. Neither of us do.

I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.

Look, since we’re in the same body, perhaps there’s a possibility that you might be able to use my powers and rip me out.

dirk

I would never ask you to do this under normal circumstances, but please, if you start to feel and hear those splinters, promise that you will rip me out and destroy me.

im not fucking doing that

Roxy.

I don’t want them getting to you.

yeah and i dont wanna kill my best friend!

It’s not like that.

dirk u have been awake and conscious 4 maybe ten minutes and youre already rationalizing getting offed

when all of this is sorted out u r so getting therapy

Ugh.

>:(

Don’t think that face at me.

besides we dont even KNOW if me ripping u out would work

sounds like it kinda backfired when you tried it

maybe instead of jumping 2 fuckin wack ass plans and asking me to kill u we should be gettin all acclimated with this body buddy business

But what about my body? That’s still an issue.

yeah but u wont let me go check that shit out

hence we cant rlly look into that situation unless u change ur mind

or i can go anyway but i know ur gonna fuss at me if i do and all this has already landed me with a mad THROBBIN headache

plus htf are we gonna deal with that if we run in n cant even manage this bod sharing

Fair point.

What do you suggest?

well idk about u but im tired af

this whole experience has really sapped ya girl of her energy yknow

like i dont think ive been this exhausted in ages

its super late rn too so

Yeah. Same.

I’m sorry about all of this.

dirk dont

im not gonna pretend that this isnt weird as hell and it definitely raises some hella huge ass problems

but honestly if i had to be stuck sharing my sweet bod with anyone i think u would be the best option

we’re gonna figure this out together, k?

...

Okay.

Roxy shifts to lay down. You can’t believe it took you this long to realize that she’s been sitting on her bed this whole time. 

yeah fuck im already passing out

carrying ur soul around is a workout dirk im gonna have some major metaphysical abs after this is all over with

be the best damn body building broad this world will EVER see

ill see u in the morning, ok?

gnight dirky

Good night, Roxy.

Your thoughts are all over the place. You want to stay awake and figure things out, and you can feel the same antsy energy in Roxy. That warmth from before still surrounds you, and while things are thoroughly and properly fucked from what you’ve gathered so far, you are grateful for Roxy’s presence. But you’re scared for her as well. You don’t know what you’ve done by roping her into this mess, and you don’t have the time to begin tumbling down that mental rabbit hole. The combination of your fatigue and Roxy’s is unrelenting, and it grips both of you tightly before fully submerging you in a deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art](https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/lqTtMYgxwjti-c9EyCN5EcrBVasxlURgcd9UytH3XH6vrR65aXHkyJZFnsS44VsefLV52-nts0gJzixaod5CWjLItU9oVbyFL569rTIiP8RUpRFSFnQooe3ZxiGiBKIJhfhY1lou) for this chapter.


End file.
